En Route to Iceland

Under an overcast sky in late June, we left The Hendrick’s Hotel in an Uber and headed for the Port of Amsterdam to board the Azamara Journey that would take us to Iceland. Without the aggravating Covid protocols we had endured when traveling in Europe a year-an-a-half earlier, check-in was easy. Frank’s stepsister Susie and I signed up for a massage on each of the two days we knew we’d be at sea with no ports of call.

After mustering for the mandatory ship-wide safety exercise, we returned to our staterooms to continue unpacking and stow suitcases out of sight for the next eleven nights. Our stateroom aid was Girlie (real name) from the Philippines. That evening we joined Susie in her room next door and opened a bottle of vodka (gift from the Azamara) for pre-dinner vodka tonics while anticipating immersion in a part of the world new to each of us.

The next day’s highlight was a lecture on the Shetland Islands, a Scottish archipelago of more than 100 islands.  We’d be docking early the next morning in Lerwick, capital of the Shetland Islands

En Route to Iceland on the Azamara Journey

Medieval Scalloway Castle

In Lerwick, Shetland, Scotland         
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After going through UK Customs (passport and room key check), we left the ship and boarded a bus for a meandering drive through the port city of Lerick and nearby countryside. Outside the city, isolated farm buildings surrounded by a verdant landscape of treeless rolling hills and grazing sheep became iconic. Leaden skies enhanced the feeling of remoteness on this sparsely populated island. 

​An up-close encounter with a small herd of Shetland ponies melted my heart. These sturdy, short-legged ponies, once used to haul peat and coal (they can carry or haul twice their weight), are today often purchased to be pets for children or company for other animals. Five miles west of Lerwick, we stopped in Scalloway, one-time capital of Shetland. Dominating the town is Scalloway Castle, a high-walled, roofless medieval ruin built in 1600. Most fascinating about this stone relic: It was left to rot, we were told, after the tyrannical Earl who built it using forced labor, Patrick Stewart, was beheaded for treason.

Exploring a small museum in Scalloway, we discovered a display that chronicles the heroic “Shetland Bus” missions into Nazi-occupied Norway during WWII. Initially, a group of small fishing boats disguised as working fishing boats were armed with light machine guns concealed in oil drums placed on deck to carry out missions on the Norwegian coast. Several fishing boats were lost before the fleet was augmented by three well-armed submarine chasers.

At the end of our tour we learned that our guide, Margaret Anderson, is the author of children’s books. From one of her books, she stood up in the front of the bus and read a poem, captivating us with her wonderful Scottish brogue.
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That night we enjoyed a late dinner aboard ship and compared notes with Susie who had opted for a different excursion. After the previous evening of vodka tonics, I opted for a pre-dinner Aperol spritzer and a glass of wine with dinner. We caught the last of the ship’s late-evening entertainer, singer Grace Clancy, and headed for bed.

Pitched roof houses nestled on edge of fjord in Faroe Islands

In Tórshavn, Faroe Islands, Denmark
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When we awoke on Saturday morning, July 1st, we were docked at Tórshavn in the Faroe Islands, an autonomous territory of the Kingdom of Denmark, and we had all of ten minutes to make the 9 a.m. lecture on Iceland. (We’d set the iPhone alarm for 8 p.m. by mistake.) After the lecture and a late breakfast, we departed by bus to explore the northern part of Eysturoy. Volcanic mountains covered by a carpet of green (kept short by sheep) dropped into fjords of clear, cold water. Stark and tranquil. We walked through a village of small houses with pitched roofs, clustered together under gray skies and a persistent drizzle. Dressed in layers, we didn’t mind.

Hairpin turns lead to highest mountain in Faroe Islands

Colonized by Vikings in the 9th century, the islands enjoy a legend-rich history. This was brought home on our stop to view two stone hay stacks offshore, Giant and Hag. According to legend, giants in Iceland wanted the Faroe Islands. So, a giant and his wife, described as a hag, set out to steal the islands. The giant remained in the sea while his wife put a rope around the top of one mountain and tried to dislodge it and place it on the giant’s back. They struggled through the night but the base of the mountain was firm and they could not move it. Legend has it that if the sun shines on a giant or other fairy-tale creatures, they turn to stone. As they struggled to move the mountain, they didn’t notice the time passing, and when dawn broke, a shaft of sunlight turned them into stone. They have stood there ever since, staring longingly across the sea towards Iceland.

Speaking of mountains, we made our way past the highest mountain in the Faroe Islands, Slaettaratindur (2,890 ft.), via multiple hairpin turns on a narrow two-way road before we arrived in the town of Gjógv. Walking through the town, we saw no one. I could only think that in this cold, wet weather, only crazy, curious tourists were out and about. Sod-roofed houses were a common sight. “In the Shetland Islands,” we were told, “they don’t mow the roofs but in the Faroe Islands, we do.” We stopped at a local guesthouse for a snack. Under dark wooden rafters, a long wooden table displayed trays of yummy eclairs and pots of hot coffee and tea but not one local did I see.